Cinaéd "Cinna" Azurewing
'History' "It happened a lot," Cinna says, fiddling with the brim of his favorite hat. "Not every day, but at least once a week. On other days, he'd be apologetic and sweet to us. He'd give us fake promises that it would never happen again." He twists and bends the black hat's enduring edges, studying each crease as if there were nothing more in the world. His face was serious, all humor gone from his normally flippant features. He looked older, more mature; an odd look. "Often he'd come home already drunk... I remember the stench was overwhelming. When he did drink at home, of course, no one would every try to stop him. If they did, they'd just be volunteering for his wrath." He pauses here, his heterochromis eyes flashing towards the sky. He places his hat back onto his head to cast a shadow over his boyish features. His right eye is icy-blue and nearly glows in the dark, but his deep crimson left eye is easily hidden. "My eye wasn't always this color," he says, changing his subject abruptly. Hesitantly he gestures to his left eye. "It used to be blue, just like the other. One day when I was young,"-he pauses, casting his eyes to the heavens as if the exact age would fall from the sky -"(( 3 )) or (( 4 )) at the time." His eyes return to the earth. "My father hit me. I remember nothing of the blow itself, as I closed my eyes far too quickly, Just a bright flash of light then darkness for two days. After that my mother took me to a medic while my father was away. Presumably my father had hidden me in the basement because he didn't want anyone to find out. But I couldn't see out of my left eye. I assumed it was just clotted with blood. In the waiting room a girl cleaned my newfound scars up. She gasped when she saw that despite cleaning the iris of my eye had turned red. The color of my blood. It wasn't for a couple of months that sight returned to that eye, but the color, for no medical explanation, never changed back. And at this point, I don't think it ever will." He shrugs, eyes cast to the floor. "But when I was (( 13 ))... that's when my life changed forever. For better or worse. He came home... drunk as usual. He took my sister -Elisande, who was (( 9 )) at the time - and propped her against the wall and began groping her. He'd done this before, of course. But usually my mother and I would sit idly by while it happened. We'd just wait until after to comfort her and stop the bleeding. It was the same thing when it happened to my mother. But this day... was different." - a slight amount of emotion creeps into his voice as he remembers the day clearly. Every moment, every scene came flooding back to him.- "My mother snapped. She grabbed my father's shirt and pulled him away from my sister. This, of course, didn't settle well with him. Furious he took a bottle and smashed it over my mother's skull. It was a hard enough impact that it cracked her head open. We took her to a medic, but it was too late. She'd lost too much blood and they were unable to heal her. She died the next morning." He pauses again, examining the ground carefully. When he continues, the emotion is gone. "Three weeks later, after promising it would never happen again at my mother's funeral at least 50 times... he was at it again. He came home, hit me once or twice, and then grabbed my sister again. He groped her and got ready to rape her. My mother dead, it was my turn to snap. An impulsive rage filled me. I took a knife off the counter and shoved it into my father's back. It only managed to puncture one lung shallowly, but it was enough to get him to turn around. He dropped my sister and looked at me, his fury far surpassing mine. His fists were clenched. He was going to do to me what he'd done to my mother. So... as he leaned in to take a blow, I jumped below him and stabbed the knife into his heart. Or what I thought was the heart. I think it might have been the artery just above it. You'd never think so much blood could come from one body..." Cinna bites his lip. "He died within minutes. But that wasn't the worst part. When he collapsed and I met my sister's eyes was the worst. They were wide with fear... paralyzed. She knew what I had done. Then she ran away. Just left. I did too. I ignored my father's freshly laid corpse." He pauses for a moment, looking to his left. He didn't seem to look at any object in particular, just looking for excuses not to make eye contact. "We were taken to the orphanage. There I met and had a long-lived relationship with Andrasteia. Met Zhain there, too. Andra had become the predominant motherly figure in Zhain's life and I suppose in a way I began to become a fatherly figure. And he'd play with my little sister, Elisande, a lot. The two got along great. But then my sister and I were adopted by an elven couple that were nice enough. They were young, only around 100 though and not truly ready for children. After a year or two they had children of their own and Elis and I were pushed off to the side. So I moved out of there as soon as possible." "I took my sister, too, of course." he continues after a slight pause. "Until she went M.I.A. about 4 years ago, during the fight against the Lich King. All that was found of her was a heart shaped pendant that was given to her by Zhain." He finally turns to make eye contact, but he's quick to look away. "After three years of constant searching, I started hanging out with Zhain a lot more to mourn the suspected death of my sister. We spent most of our time together drunk or high with sleazy women, but it didn't last all that long. Ran out of money quick. Though Zhain was the first to stop. Not because he was out of money, but because he realized what he was doing to himself. I didn't care though. But it's starting to catch up with me; or rather Zhain's nagging is." 'Personality and appearance' Wispy raven-colored hair frames a face of classical elven features. His hair flows, obviously well-taken care of, and painstakingly styled to look lazy and casual. His features are typical of an attractive elf -- slight jaw line, strong cheek bones, and symmetrical appearance. His eyes are abnormal, though, heterochromis and void of all fel magic. His left eye is a crimson, and his right is a pale blue. His chest is pronounced, his shoulders broad, just as the average elf. He holds himself proudly just as any other elf would, though his once tapered waist has grown soft. Years of sedentary studying have visibly taken their toll, though he would refuse to be considered overweight. At the broad of his chest are several markings, signifying him as a servant of the blue dragonflight. There is evidence of where the emblem was forcibly burned in, as there are jagged tears around it. His armor is the classical magi attire; brilliant spell robes with a staff or a tome at hand. Generally when strolling the streets of Silvermoon, though, he will trade his robes for a much more comfortable silken shirt, button down and split until his diaphragm. He wears no wedding ring, nor a mark of any noble Cinna's speech is that of an well educated man, though he has a rather thick Gilnean accent. When speaking with strangers he tends to suppress his accent to an extent, but when conversing in stressful situations or with those he knows well, his accent has a tendency to become more pronounced. Ofttimes Cinna can be spotted reading a book in the library of Dalaran or the streets of Silvermoon City. He fancies large tomes, generally books based on the theory of the origin of the universe, magic or the occasional fictional novel. He'll read for hours on end sitting out on a sunny day. Notable Affiliations Abisar Silverlance. "I wasn't expecting it and I'm sure neither was she," Cinna says, the brighter subject casting away his brooding thoughts. "When I first met Abisar Silverlance, I could see how the armor had clung to her frame. Obviously she was skinny - a little too skinny - but other then that, I couldn't see anything else about her. She wore a hood and long robes that covered her from head to toe. "I don't know what possessed me to talk to her. I mean, I was originally there to buy regeants, not looking for a girl. But I guess I subconsciously had decided I wanted to have sex with her. Just like that. So I started hitting on her, which she refused by claimming to have a husband. Little too her knowledge the boy she claimed to be married to had been my best friend for the passed hundred years and he had never mentioned any woman. So I played along as she spouted on about how big and beefy the frail boy was, and how much of a temper he had when men hit on 'his woman'. It didn't take long before she realized I knew." He chuckles, recalling the tale. Category:Blood Elf Category:Mage Category:Horde Category:Horde Mage